


Looks Can Be Deceiving

by Leah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes, kind of, wearing each other's clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leah/pseuds/Leah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean's clothes are stolen out of the boys' hotel room, he is forced to wear Sam's clothes until they have the money to go shopping. The thing is, though, that Dean likes wearing Sam's clothes, but Sam likes it even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looks Can Be Deceiving

“I look ridiculous, Sam,” Dean whines, pulling at the too-long shirt. His, or rather Sam’s, pants are way too long and slightly too small at the waist, pinching Dean’s sensitive skin in all the wrong ways. 

“Well, you’re just going to have to get used to it,” Sam mutters, trying to avoid looking at his older brother. He’s not sure if he’d laugh at the sight, or be extremely turned on. Sam’s gone his whole life ignoring his bizarre attraction to Dean, and he’s not about to let those years of work go to waste just because Dean’s bag of clothes got stolen from one of the sleezier hotels they’ve stayed at recently. They’re just lucky that duffel didn’t have anything _important_ in it.

“Let’s just go to the thrift store right now,” Dean grumbles, slipping his boots on under the dragging jeans. 

“You know we don’t have any cash right now,” Sam shoots back, double checking all their bags are out of the room. “C’mon, we gotta get going if you want to hit Amarillo by tomorrow morning.” Sam sneaks a glance at Dean, and the way he keeps running his fingers around the waistband to relieve the pressure is probably illegal. It should be, anyway. 

“I can’t hustle pool lookin’ like this,” Dean mumbles to himself before trudging out of the hotel room. And, hey, Sam can’t help it if he watches Dean’s ass on his way out. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sam realizes, as Dean sheds some of his layers, the only thing hotter than Dean wearing his clothes is Dean taking them _off_. Nearly drooling, Sam tears his eyes away from Dean’s body, just as Dean turns to face Sam. If he noticed Sam staring, he doesn’t anything about it. 

“Hey, Sammy, you’re a girl,” Dean smirks. “You got another pair of sweats?”

“Not with that kind of attitude,” Sam sasses, before pulling out his other, nicer pair of sweat pants. They’re stained and almost ripped, but not _as_ stained and torn up as the ones Sam himself is wearing. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean says, honestly. He’s not sure what he would do without Sam sometimes. Plus, he kinda likes wearing Sam’s clothes. It’s a strange combination of too-big and too-tight, but that doesn’t matter since he’s wearing _Sam’s_ clothes, which is a completely flip-flopped situation. Suddenly, Dean is being taken care of by his baby brother. It’s almost refreshing to Dean. 

Although, he’d never admit that to Sam. 

“No problem,” Sam mumbles back, focusing on his computer screen again. “Another body was found earlier today, just as torn up as the others. But it wasn’t a full moon last night?”

“Maybe it’s not a werewolf, then,” Dean suggests, clambering onto his bed. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Sam becomes aware of Dean’s eyes on him. Sam swivels in his chair to meet Dean’s gaze. 

“What?” Sam asks, unsure what the weird “I-love-you-but” look on Dean’s face means. It’s kind of comforting, but also puts Sam on a little bit of an edge. What’s going on Dean’s head?

“Nothin’,” Dean mumbles, rolling onto his back. Sam closes his laptop and flicks off the dim light on the obligatory table in every hotel room, no matter how small or useless it may be. 

“We can get you some new clothes soon, don’t pout so much,” Sam chuckles, knocking Dean’s feet together as he passes on the way to his own bed. Although, if he really thinks about it, it kinda hurts that Dean absolutely hates wearing his clothes so much. When Sam was still small enough to fit in Dean’s clothes, he loved it. Hell, he still sneaks the leather jacket away as often as possible. 

“’M not pouting,” Dean says, sleepily laughing at himself. “You just have no style.”

Sam laughs as Dean’s snores fill the small room. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“None of these are _my_ Led Zeppelin shirt, though,” Dean groans, flicking through the racks of classic-rock themed shirts. Sam smiles to himself, busying himself with the tag on a jacket before Dean catches him grinning. 

“That one looks exactly the same, though!” Sam points out, holding a grey shirt up. It has the cover of Zeppelin II on the front, in faded colors and almost-chipping vinyl. 

“It’s not gonna feel right,” Dean insists, taking the offered shirt, anyway. He hadn’t realized how much he really loved his clothes until now, when he was trying to replace all of them. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam tells him. “When I went through my growth spurt, don’t you remember how many times I had to completely revamp my wardrobe with second-hand clothes?”

Dean shrugs, noncommittally. 

“Well, I had to wear a lot of weird-feeling clothes,” Sam continues, pulling another familiar-looking shirt off the rack. “But eventually, they feel like your old clothes, alright? It’ll be fine.”

After gathering a pretty big supply of flannels, tee-shirts, and two Henleys in pretty good shape, Sam locates the correct sized pants for Dean. He grabs a few pairs and moves towards the socks and underwear section of the thrift shop. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dean says, matter-of-factly. 

“What?”

“I’m not wearing underwear that some other dude’s junk has rubbed up against,” Dean protests, turning away from Sam. Sam just lets out a sigh, as Dean makes his way towards the cash register. The total remains surprisingly low (thirty dollars for an entire new wardrobe), barely making a dent in Sam’s most recent hustling rewards. 

“Thanks for helping me out, Sammy,” Dean says, as the slip into a booth at some diner. 

“If I’d have left you to do the shopping, you would’ve come back empty-handed and drunk,” Sam jokes, kicking Dean under the table, lightly. Surprisingly, Dean’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, that Sam finds so immensely adorable, he’s not sure how he never noticed that blushing Dean is the cutest Dean. 

“Yeah, well, you let me use all your clothes, too, so just thanks,” Dean points out, completely ignoring the truth in Sam’s joke. Dean tends to get frustrated easily, and you know what fixes frustration? So much alcohol. 

“No problem,” Sam answers, opening his menu and trying to ignore his sudden desire to run his fingers over Dean’s red cheeks. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Dean, have you seen my shirt? I thought I put it right her-“ Sam asks, turning to face Dean, who is currently donning the plaid shirt in question. Dean’s cheeks turn a traitorous shade of pink, that runs all the way up to his ears. “Oh.”

“I dunno,” Dean shrugs, sitting down on the bed to put on his leather boots. It’s not Dean’s fault it feels kinda _good_ wearing Sam’s clothes. He’s only kicking himself for getting caught, now that he has his own set of clothes again.

Sam can’t hold back his childish grin as he sits down next to Dean. He puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder, rubbing small circles there. “Dean, it’s okay,” Sam says, quietly. “It’s okay if you like my clothes. I- I like it when you wear my clothes, too.”

Dean looks mildly surprised as he turns to face Sam, only to find Sam’s face is just as red as Deans. Suddenly, Dean’s not sure how he never noticed how _adorable_ Sam’s face is, and just how _hot_ his body is. Dean’s eyes roam downwards, not unnoticed by Sam. 

“Sam,” Dean whispers, unconsciously leaning towards Sam. Sam closes the distance, and, after so many years waiting for this, Dean’s lips feel perfectly amazing as they begin moving against Sam’s. Dean quickly takes control, straddling Sam’s hips and slipping his tongue into Sam’s mouth. Sam pulls away for a moment, to take a deep breath, slipping his hands under Dean’s shirt and over his hips. 

“Dean,” Sam pants against Dean’s neck, sucking a bruise on the sensitive skin. Dean wraps his fingers in Sam’s shaggy hair, as his hips start rocking forward, and he starts making these little “ah, ah, ah” sounds with each thrust that have Sam rocking his own hips into Dean’s. 

“I love you, Sammy,” Dean groans as his body stiffens, and a wet spot forms on the outside of his jeans. He captures Sam’s mouth again, and it only takes a moment for Sam’s body to go rigid, too. Breathing hard, Sam lays back, and Dean follows him, resting on Sam’s chest, surrounded in the smell of Sam, and Dean’s not sure he’s ever felt better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment, telling me what you thought of this! It means so much to me. :)


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